


On the Case

by Gabrielle16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Lawyer Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrielle16/pseuds/Gabrielle16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester has graduated from law school and is now not only the best lawyer in the state of California, but also a husband and a father. One day, he recieves an offer for a mysterious case with an unknown client. Unable to resist, Sam takes the case. However, maybe this case will hit a bit too close to home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prosecution

Four hours. That's how long they'd been waiting for the defendant.  
Four.  
Freaking.  
Hours.  
'What the hell is taking them so long?' Sam Winchester wondered to himself. 'These people had dealt with criminals before. What was the hold up?'  
Sam was the prosecuting attorney, and he and his witnesses had been early. Every single one. He felt bad for the defense attorney, but not too bad.  
Just two short years ago, Sam had graduated from the Stanford University school of Law, top of the class, full ride every year. And now he was on of the best lawyers in the state.  
This case wasn't unlike anything he hadn't dealt with before; white male, early thirties, murder, thief, almost 20 years worth of credit card fraud. Should be a shoe-in. However, the defendant, had pleaded innocent, and caused a huge trial, even though all evidence pointed to him. Sam had accepted nevertheless. A case was a case. Even one like this, that had popped up the day before, but they wanted this guy off the streets as soon as possible. Sam hadn't had a chance to talk to his witness, to do any research on the trial. He didn't even know the guy's name.  
Finally, f i n a l l y, after almost the fifth consecutive hour of waiting, the court heard the rustling of handcuffs from down the hallway. They heard muffled voices as well. Then there were a couple of yells, like they guy had just broke out, but it was subdued. Then the doors opened.  
"-just proving a point. You told me i couldn't hit you with handcuffs on, i said i could. Now i guess we know who was right." The defendant was being held onto by the shoulders and neck, talking to a guard whose face was bright red and had a black eye. "Hey and i can walk on my own quit touching me." He shook off the bailiff's hand from his shoulder.  
All of the blood rushed out of Sam's face and he felt sick.  
Dean's eyes looked over the courtroom expressionlessly. He always had been harder to surprise then Sam. Then he cracked a smile.  
"Hey guys."  
"Mr. Winchester please go sit down." The Judge said.  
"As you wish." He said, bowing low, then strolling to his seat where his handcuffs were promptly attached to the table.  
Dean sighed.  
"Dean Winchester, you have been accused of extensive credit card fraud, impersonating authority figures, and theft, but more importantly, multiple cases of first degree murder. How do you plead?" The judge asked.  
"What?" Dean asked looking up. "Sorry, wasn't listening. Could you please restate the question?"  
Sam put his head in his hands.  
"How do you plead?" Judge Sanders asked stiffly.  
"Am i allowed to plead for a bacon cheeseburger? Is that a thing?" Dean asked. The judge lowered his eyebrows. "Seriously." Dean protested. "I'm starving. They have to worst burgers in St. Louis."  
"Well i can't imagine the food was prestige in jail."  
"I wasn't talking about in the jail, but yeah those were pretty bad too." Dean acknowledged.  
"Do you plead innocent or guilty, Mr. Winchester?"  
"Please." He said. "Call me Dean."  
"Very well." The judge sighed. "Innocent or guilty...Dean?"  
"Innocent." Dean finally said.  
"The defendant pleads innocent." The judge announced loudly. Dean rolled eyes.  
"Yeah that's why we're here." He muttered.  
"Anything more from you, Winchester, and i'll charge you with contempt." Judge Sanders threatened.  
Dean raised his hands in unconcerned surrender. "And i said it was 'Dean'." Dean reminded him.  
"Mr. Thompson. You may begin." The judge ignored him.  
Dean's lawyer stood up an walked to the front of the room.  
"Innocent." He boomed, standing tall. "My client pleads innocent. My client IS innocent. Ladies and gentlemen, i know you opinions of Mr. Winc- Dean," he corrected himself. "are less than favorable. But he is not a murderer anymore than anyone in this room." Sam was doubtful of that statement. "He was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. And before we leave here, i will have shown you this in so many ways, that you will no have even a shred of doubt that he is innocent." He looked over the courtroom. "Thank you."  
Then he sat down. Silence. Even Dean was looking at him with raised eyebrows. He was overconfident, and it was going to backfire since he actually had no solid evidence and a snarky client.  
"Mr. Winchester, if you please."  
Sam took a deep breath, and got up, straightening his suit. They were going to figure out that they were brothers eventually. There are only so many people with the last name of Winchester.  
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury." He started shakily. Dean's face was mostly impassive, with a slight smirk showing up on the corners of his mouth. Sam decided not to look at him. "Before us sits a very unfortunate man. No, not Mr... Dean. Mr. Thompson. I feel for him, i really do. Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Thompson is playing the maybe game. MAYBE Dean, was actually at a bar one night. MAYBE he's been framed. MAYBE he's not a murderer. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Just a bunch of circumstantial evidence that he's going to play off as genuine. Not that i blame him, of course. He has no genuine evidence." He turned to Mr. Thompson, ignoring Dean. "It's a dangerous game, Mr. Thompson. I wish you luck." He turned back to the jury. "Dean Winchester is guilty." He let his voice ring through the courtroom's silence. "Years of credit card fraud, proven. You get into places you shouldn't by impersonating anyone from a fraternity brother or pastor to an FBI agent or homeland security agent. Taking part in an all night bank robbery, taking 12 hostages, murdering one of them. Anthony Giles. Dead. Karen Giles. Dead. Diana Ballard. Dead. Three girls tortured in St. Louis. One dead. All of them murdered. All when you were there, all only when you were there, all by you." He said trying to look at Dean, but not look at him at the same time. "Thank you." He said stiffly.  
Dean smiled at his little brother's success. He nodded appraisingly. There was scattered applause. Sam glanced at Dean apologetically.  
"Order. Order!" Judge Sanders yelled, pounding his gavel on the podium. Soon the court was back to it's usual silence. "Now commences a 15 minute recess." He stood up and walked out.  
People got up and started talking, walking in small groups out of the room. Soon only the two lawyers and Dean were left, Dean probably because he was handcuffed to the table.  
"Mr. Winchester," Thompson said. "We need to discuss-"  
"Say, could i get that burger now?" Dean asked.  
Thompson threw up his hands in defeat and exited, leaving Sam and Dean alone.  
"It's Dean!" He called to Thompson as the door slammed shut. "Hiya, Sammy." He grinned at Sam.  
"Dean, what the hell man?"  
"Oh, come on. Is that any way to treat your older brother? Hows long's it been? Eight, nine years? How's Jessica?"  
"She's fine. She's at home with the kids."  
"Aw i'm an uncle. Why didn't you tell me? Then again i had to find out you got married on my own. Guess my invitation got lost in the mail."  
"Dean you don't have a mailing address."  
"Well i do have a working phone."  
"Yeah, and i haven't heard from you since that week before my interview. You said you'd call me when you found dad."  
"Guess i forgot. I was busy saving people's lives." Dean spat.  
"So you did find him?" Sam said eagerly.  
"Yes." Dean said shortly.  
"Well? How is he?"  
"He's dead."  
Neither of them said anything for a bit.  
"Oh."  
"Yeah, so i've been on my own for about six, seven years. Almost died a couple times. No big deal. Killed the thing that killed mom. Now i guess i'm on trial. Sounds like i might go to jail with you going against me." He grinned.  
"Dean that's not funny."  
"No i agree." Dean said. "You're a damn good lawyer. Glad you got to go live your dream."  
"Dean-" Sam stopped. There was no good way to finish that sentence. "Wait... Did i hear you right?" Sam asked suddenly. "You got mom's killer?"  
Dean looked proud. "I sure did. A demon. Shot him in the head."  
"With what?"  
"Colt's gun."  
"Samuel Colt's gun?"  
Dean nodded. "That's the one."  
"You have THE colt?!"  
"In the trunk. Unless your law buddies find my arsenal."  
"Dean, i'm sorry." Sam said quietly. "I didn't know-"  
"It doesn't matter." Dean cut him off.  
A loud beep signaled the end of the break. People startle flooding back in.  
"Knock 'em dead, Sammy." Dean said softly.  
Sam nodded curtly and turned away.  
Mr. Thompson returned, to Dean's despair, without any food.  
"Dude." Dean spread his hands as wide as he could. "What the hell?"  
"I'm getting damn tired of you, Winchester." Thompson murmured.  
"You've known me for half an hour."  
"Order!" The judge barked. The room quieted down. "Prosecution, if you would please call your first witness?"  
"Yes, your honor." Sam said reluctantly. "Prosecution would like to call Victor Hendrickson to the stand."  
Dean swore loudly.  
Thompson smacked him.  
Victor, a tall, well dressed man got up and walked confidently to the stand. He was smirking at Dean.  
"Hello Victor." Sam said.  
"Hello Sam."  
"How's your day been?"  
"It's about to get a lot better."  
"And why's that?" Sam asked.  
"Because all my dreams are about to come true." Victor shifted his gaze. "Hiya Dean."  
"You son of a bitch." Dean tried to get up, but the cuffs held him back. People gasped as Victor smirked  
at Dean as he struggled against the handcuffs.  
"Order. Order!" Judge Sanders yelled, pounding his gavel loudly. Eventually people calmed down. "Winchester, sit down." He barked.  
"So, you know Dean?" Sam guessed, turning to Hendrickson.  
"Yeah. Dean. Dean Winchester. I've been trying to catch this guy for how many years is it now?" He asked Dean. Dean sulked at him. "Since before you locked down that bank, at least. I don't believe we've talked since the Green River County Detention Center."  
"Could you elaborate on the bank you mentioned?" Sam asked, trying not to be startled at Victor's dedication to locking up his brother.  
"It would be my pleasure. It was Milwaukee. About a year after the whole st. Louis incident. Dean was there. He held a bunch of workers hostage, even killed one, with the help of another armed madman."  
"You say it was after st. Louis?"  
"St. Louis. That's right. Dean Winchester sliced up 3 women, killing one of them. Though we found him dead. Still working out how he faked his death so convincingly."  
'St. Louis.' Sam thought. Suddenly, an imaged flashed through his mind. A text he'd forwarded to Dean. An email from his friend. He put his head in his hands. Oh god. This was his fault.  
"Sam?" Dean got to his feet, and tried to rush to his brother's side, but the handcuffs stopped him. "Sammy, what's wrong?"  
"Dean. Sit down." Thompson hissed.  
"Mr. Winchester, what's the matter?" Judge Sanders asked.  
Sam took a deep breath. He can't afford to loose it like that.  
"Sorry." He said, turning around. "Migraine. Better now. Could that be off the record please?"  
The judge nodded.  
"So, Mr. Hendrickson," Sam continued hastily. "You mentioned Green River County Detention Center?"  
"Uh, yeah." Victor said, slightly put off by Sam's little episode. "The detention center. Dean got arrested for breaking into a museum."  
"What happened?" Sam prodded.  
"He escaped. He knocked out the warden and left through the vent. I didn't see him again until Oakland."  
"Could what you saw in Oakland?"  
"At first we thought it was a couple of suicides. You know, the company was facing some hard times. Wasn't uncommon. Then this guy shows up," he gestured at Dean. "announcing himself as Agent John Bonham, FBI. Now, i knew who he was, and he didn't know i was there, so i followed him. After asking some weird questions around the firm for about half an hour, he went back to his motel room."  
"When you say weird questions, what exactly do you mean?" Sam asked.  
"Asking about strange noises. Scratching behind walls. Cold spots. Weird questions."  
Sam pursed his lips. "Alright. And what happened when he got back to his motel?"  
"He pulled out a beer and a laptop and stared at the screen for about an hour. Then he suddenly got up, threw some 'supplies' in a duffle and drove off in that dumb old car of his."  
"Hey!" Dean protested. "Supplies?" Sam continued.  
"Strange stuff." Hendrickson said. "Huge thing of salt. A bottle of kerosene. A shovel. He had a knife and a gun."  
"And where did he drive to?" Sam asked, though he already basically knew the answer.  
"A graveyard. About a mile north." "And just what was he doing at a graveyard?"  
"Digging up graves."  
A woman in the audience gasped. Dean rolled his eyes.  
"And mutilating corpses." He continued.  
Sam sighed. "Already illegal." He commented. "And what happened after that?"  
"Then he went back to his motel room and went to sleep. So i did the same. The next morning, another member of the firm was dead. 'Cept this time we knew it wasn't suicide. Signs of struggle. Shown some light on the others. We found that they weren't suicides either. That's when we found Dean at the victim's house." He paused for dramatic affect.  
Dean sighed.  
"The girl's blood was on his hands, there was a crowbar, of all things lying across the room. As well as a bloody knife. The rest is history."  
"Was there anyone else in the house?"  
"Not a soul."  
Dean snorted.  
"There hadn't been in weeks. Michaela lived alone." Victor said, staring irritably at Dean.  
Sam turned to the judge. "No further questions, your honor."  
Sam took his seat.  
'Not bad' Dean nodded appreciatively.  
Sam frowned apologetically.  
"Mr. Thompson. You're up for cross." Judge Sanders announced.  
Michael got to his feet and walked over to Victor.  
"Mr. Hendrickson, i only really have one question for you." He said.  
"Better make it a good one then."  
"Have you ever actually seen Dean murder anyone?"  
Victor hesitated.  
Dean smirked.  
"N...no."  
"Did anyone you talked to actually see Dean murder anyone?"  
"No, but-"  
"No." Michael repeated, smiling, as he turned to the audience. "Follow up then. Are you playing the 'maybe game' Mr. Hendrickson?" He asked, staring pointedly at Sam.  
Dean bit his lip, obviously holding back laughter. Clearly there was a lot of bad blood between the two of them. Victor didn't seem to know what to say.  
"No further questions." Thompson said.  
Sam sighed as Hendrickson took his seat.  
"Next witness?"  
"Prosecution would like to call Peter Sheridan to the stand." Sam announced.  
"Aw, come on!" Dean complained.  
"Dean. Silence." Sanders barked.  
"Hello Peter." Sam said. "How was your flight?"  
"Awful, but worth it."  
"What makes you say it was worth it?"  
"Because that man, Dean Winchester, murdered my friend." He said. "He murdered my friend, and his wife, and my partner. And then he had the nerve to blame me." He glanced snidely at Dean. "Or was it that vengeful spirit you mentioned?"  
This received a few titters from the crowd.  
"He mentioned a vengeful spirit?" Sam asked.  
"Yeah, during his 'confession'. He also added that st. Louis wasn't him either."  
"Who does he say did it?"  
"Not who. What. He said it was a, what was it? 'A shapeshifter creature who only looked like me'."  
Sam took a deep, slow breath. "What happened next?"  
"Well then he escaped. He ran off. Not sure how he did it, he's a slippery son of a bitch."  
"Indeed." Sam coughed. "Now, could you describe the fashion in which you discovered Dean was murdering these people?"  
"Of course. We got a 911 call from Karen Giles, saying that someone was in her house. By the time we reached her, Dean was already there, her throat slit to the bone, her blood literally on his hands."  
"And what do you know of Dean's escape?" Sam asked.  
"What do you mean?" Pete asked quickly.  
"Where were you when he was found missing?"  
"It wasn't like that exactly." Pete said.  
Dean laughed.  
"Mr. Winchester, if i hear one more sound from you..." Judge Sanders threatened.  
"Then what was it like?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's interruption.  
"Dean was in the back of my squad car." Pete told the court. "He was being deported to st. Louis. Then he broke out somehow. Rolled right out of the back of the truck. I tried to get him, by the time i got out to the back, he had disappeared."  
"That's not true!" Dean shook his head, grinning. "You pulled me out of that car and tried to shoot me at point-blank. For no reason, i might add."  
The courtroom exploded in a chorus of nervous chatter.  
"Order. Order!" Sanders yelled, banging his gavel on the podium. The courtroom quieted down. "Dean, first of all, you are not allowed to talk, especially out of turn, especially while a witness is giving a testimony. More importantly, this is the fifth time i've had to ask you to be quiet this morning. So unless you want to be thrown out of this courtroom and held in a state penitentiary until this is over, i suggest you shut your mouth and keep it that way."  
Dean leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips together. His hands gestured 'continue'.  
"Keep going Mr. Winchester." Sanders said to Sam.  
"Um. No further questions, your honor."  
"Very well." Judge Sanders sighed. "Mr. Thompson?"  
"Mr. Sheridan." Michael said, getting up. "Once again. I'm going to ask you: did you see Dean murder these people?"  
"He was found at the crime scene wit-"  
"Did you see Dean slice their throats with a knife?"  
Pete pursed his lips. "No."  
"Were there any witnesses to any of their murders?"  
"No."  
"No." Michael repeated, nodding. "This is a lot of circumstantial evidence on your side of the case, Mr. Winchester." He said to Sam.  
Sam pursed his lips.  
"On the topic of the knife," Thompson said, turning back to Pete. "Where was it? Where was the knife? Where was the murder weapon?"  
"We never found one." Peter muttered.  
"Oh. And did you ever come up with Dean's motive for these murders?"  
"Well, no, but-" Pete started getting more and more frustrated.  
"Do you have any evidence that my client had any connection to Karen or Anthony Giles?" Thompson asked him.  
"Anthony was friends with his father."  
"What reason would he have for killing his father's friend?"  
"I don't know-"  
"No further questions, your honor." Thompson turned and sat down.  
"How can you defend a man like that?!" Pete started yelling at Thompson. "He is liar and a murderer, the very plague of human existence! You would see him out on the streets among us, you're no better than he is..."  
Dean stared at Peter with wide eyes while the judge tried in vain to get him off the stand.  
"Dude." Dean called over the pandemonium. "Chill."  
"Don't you dare tell me to chill! You murdered my friends!"  
That's when Dean leapt to his feet. "You know damn well that that's a lie! You killed them just like you killed Claire!"  
Pete's face paled. The courtroom fell silent.  
"Yeah. Remember Claire? That girl who hid that heroin for you? Thought i didn't know about that?" Dean continued snidely. "You killed her before she let the secret out. Anthony knew. So Karen must have known too." He added sarcastically. "But Diana, she didn't know anything. And you were sweet on her. What did you kill her for?"  
Sam knew he should be objecting. The defendant wasn't allowed to question his witness. But he really didn't feel like it. He liked Dean and he didn't really like Peter. As much as it could jeopardize his case, he knew he didn't want Dean arrested. And he kinda enjoyed watching Peter squirm.  
"I...i didn't..." Pete struggled to deny Dean's claims, but by then no one really believed him.  
"That's what i thought." Dean smirked. "Now, get off the podium, man. You're holding us up."  
Peter Sheridan got up angrily and stomped angrily, not only off of the podium, but out of the courtroom.  
Thompson glanced at Dean with an appraising look on his face.  
"Fifteen minute recess starts now." Sanders said tiredly.  
Many spectators seemed more uncertain than they had before. Many of them tried to get a better look at Dean. Finally, Sam got up angrily and marched over to Thompson.  
"Could i have a word with you client?" He barked.  
"If this is about that outburst you didn't object to, then no." Thompson smirked. "What's done is done."  
"Yo, it's cool Metlock." Dean said. "There's nothing he can do. If you could detach me from this table so i could go talk to the guy..."  
After a tense minute, Sam and Dean were walking down the hall toward the room that had been appointed to Sam.  
"That was intense." Dean commented. "Pete probably wasn't the best witness you could have picked, Sammy."  
"Did he really kill those people?" Sam asked.  
"Yeah. People are crazy."  
"And you told him it was a vengeful spirit?"  
"Mostly to annoy him. Initially i thought it was." Dean shrugged. "Turned out to be a death omen."  
"Dean." Sam turned to face him.  
"What?"  
"I'm sorry."  
"For what? Being the prosecuting attorney in my court case? That's not your fault."  
"No, for st. Louis."  
Dean thought for a moment. Then he closed his eyes. "Sammy, if you think that was your fault-"  
"Dean if i hadn't sent you that text from Becky, you never would have gone. This whole thing would have never started. It's my fault you could be sentenced to death for something you didn't do!"  
"Sam, listen to me. This is not your fault. None of this is your fault. I'm glad i went to st. Louis. If i hadn't, that shapeshifter would still be out there killing innocent girls and framing their boyfriends." Dean insisted. "Plus we both knew i'd get into trouble eventually." He cracked a smile.  
"Dean-"  
"I mean, i commit credit card fraud for a living. Always have."  
"Shh. Dean, look, you're facing a death penalty. I don't want you to die!" Sam said seriously.  
Dean pursed his lips. "Yeah, me neither."  
They were quiet.  
"Dean, i should have gone with you. That Halloween way back. I should have stayed with you. You had to do everything on your own. Hunt, find dad, deal with... with his death." Sam said softly. "I'm sorry i should have been there for you, man."  
"Sam. You would have had to give up law school. Give up Jessica. I don't want that. You're happy. That's all i care about."  
"Alright, yeah, but Dean-"  
"Sam i mean it." He insisted.  
"No, i should have-"  
"Sam, listen to me-"  
"Dean i left you al-  
"Sam." Dean pinned Sam against the wall. "Listen. My life? This life? It's crap. You know that. You gave it up. I almost dragged you back in. Look at you. You have a successful honest job, a loving wife, kids. I will never have that. Do you think i'd be able to live with myself if-"  
"Are you guys okay? I heard raised voices and- oh my god call a guard!" A clerk rounded the corner and saw Dean with his forearm at Sam's neck.  
"Dammit." Dean sighed.  
Guards rushed down the hallway and grabbed Dean, pulling him away from Sam and forcing his arms behind his back.  
"Dude, ow!" Dean protested. "Lay off, i'm not-"  
"Shut up." One of the guards hit him over the head with a baton.  
"Ow!"  
"Boys, i assure you, this is not-" Sam tried to tell them.  
"No offense, Mr. Winchester, but this man is a criminal and he was just attacking you." One of the guards explained, as if Sam could somehow have missed that.  
"C'mon." The other guard grunted at Dean, as he started dragging him down the hallway. They were dragging him because he refused to move his legs. He sighed, staring down the hall at Sam and shrugged. He looked very bored. "Hey could you guys go any faster?" Dean asked as the rounded a corner.  
Sam chuckled and shook his head slightly. They had bitten off more then they could chew with Dean. Then he stopped. Dean could, probably would get the death penalty for this. How could he try to convict him to that? He was his brother!  
A bell signaled the three minute warning. Sam straightened his tie and walked back to the courtroom.  
The courtroom was buzzing. Word travels fast through two rooms. People swarmed Sam asking him if he was alright. Sam tried to assure them that he was fine, but they didn't seem to want to believe him.  
Thompson seemed conflicted on what to do with his client. He should be yelling at him for jeopardizing their case, but he also held a grudge against Sam, so he wasn't that mad.  
Judge Sanders, on the other hand, was positively livid. He already was up to here with Dean, and he had worked with Sam before. It was probably just a matter of time before he threw Dean out. There was no way he was going to let him go.  
Sam sighed.  
"Order!" Sanders snapped.  
People shut up.  
"Mr. Winchester do you have anymore witnesses?" He asked Sam.  
"No, your honor."  
"Good." He said. "Then we will resume tomorrow. This has been a long day and we are all tired. Court dismissed." He banged his gavel on the podium.  
People filled out a few at a time. When there wasn't a huge group, the judge came over to Sam.  
"Are you alright?" He asked seriously.  
"Yes, i'm fine." Sam insisted. "Why does everyone keep asking me?"  
"Because you were just attacked by a man suspected of murder."  
"He didn't-" Sam tried.  
"I'll see you tomorrow, Sam." He ignored him. Sanders nodded respectfully at Michael as the passed then threw Dean a look of absolute loathing.  
"Something tells me the judge is not completely unbiased." Dean said loudly enough for Sanders to here.  
He slowed for a second before pushing open the door.  
"I wonder why that is." Sam mumbled.  
"Don't patronize my client." Thompson glared.  
"Cool it, Atticus." Dean sighed. "I attacked him. Now we're even."  
"Dean you didn't-"  
Dean silenced him with a look.  
Then 4 policemen walked into the room.  
"Who are you guys?" Sam asked.  
"We're here to escort Mr. Winchester to his holding cell." The head guy explained.  
"Holding cell?" Sam repeated.  
"Yeah. You didn't think they'd just let him stay in a friggin motel room, did ya?" The younger one asked.  
Sam raised an eyebrow.  
"You want me to sleep in a jail?" Dean asked indignantly. "That's going to make me pleasant in the morning."  
"Yeah from what i've heard you're a real ray of sunshine." The deputy rolled his eyes.  
Two of them grabbed his arms and hauled him out of his seat, the other two standing guard next to them. For some reason, Dean's legs had stopped working again. They were forced to drag him out of the courtroom.  
"See ya tomorrow, Sam!" He called jovially as he was pulled out the door.  
"Shut up." One of them groaned.  
The doors slammed closed. Sam was left in the courtroom with Michael.  
"He seems to know you." He observed. "I mean as more then the guy trying to get him on death row and the lawyer he attacked in the hallway."  
"Yeah he does." Sam said neutrally. "I'll see you tomorrow, Thompson."  
They nodded at each other and Sam gathered his things and left.  
It was a couple of minutes before he made it home. Jessica waiting for him at the door.  
"Hey, sweetie." She smiled, giving him a kiss he didn't return. "Hey, what's wrong?"  
"I don't know what to do, Jess." He told her.  
"Well come on inside and let's talk about it. The kids are already im bed. Theres some pizza left over."  
"Thanks, babe." He kissed her forehead. He walked past her and set his files on the counter. Then he went and sat on the couch without getting any food.  
"Bad day, huh?" She asked.  
"You have no idea."  
"Is it this case? The one you knew nothing about?" She persisted.  
"Jess, do you remember my brother, Dean?"  
"The one who randomly broke into our apartment right before your interview and took you away for a couple of days, and you haven't seen or heard from since?" She remembered. "Yeah, of course. Why..." She trailed off. "He's not-"  
"Yeah. He is."  
"Murder?!" Jess was scandalized.  
"He's innocent!" Sam protested. "I know he is. But there's just so much evidence otherwise. And he's such a smartass, Sanders hates him. But he's my brother! And i'm supposed to put him on death row?!" Sam put his head in his hands.  
Jessica started messaging his shoulders. "Sam." She said softly. "Of course, i don't want you to break the law but, if you weren't the opposing lawyer on your brother's case, what would you do?"  
"I could lose the case." Sam put out.  
"If you do what i think you're going to do, you could get arrested yourself." Jess warned. "They'll only be able to do so much digging without finding out that he's your brother."  
Sam stared at the wall and didn't say anything for the rest of the night.  
If he was going to get Dean out, he was going to need a plan.


	2. The Defense

"Mr. Thompson. Your witness if you please." Judge Sanders asked wearily the next morning.  
"The defense would like to call Dean Winchester to the stand." He said loudly.  
A hush rang through the courtroom. This was it.  
Dean sighed and got to his feet, his hands still cuffed behind his back. Dramatically slowly, he made his way to the podium.  
"Hello Dean."  
"Heya, Mike."  
"How are you enjoying your stay in California?"  
Dean glanced over his shoulder at the handcuffs behind his back. "I'm sure your experience is better than mine." He smiled.  
"So. Dean. Let's start at the beginning. Why were you in st. Louis all those years ago?"  
"I was helping out a friend. Or a friend of a friend, i guess." Dean decided.  
"A friend of a friend?"  
"Yeah, i mean i didn't know Becky personally. My old buddy went to college with her and figured i could help her out."  
"You have a old buddy?"  
Dean gave him a lopsided grin. "Yeah, Brady." (me) Sam thought. "I haven't heard from him since then and i haven't seen him in," he glanced at Sam. "Hell, it must be going on 10 years now." Sam glanced at his feet. "So yeah Brady forwarded a text to me, saying that a friend of his had a brother who'd been convicted of murder. So i went to go check it out."  
"So you weren't even in town when the first murder happened?"  
"No i was not." Dean leaned back on his chair. "I was two states over."  
"Doing what?"  
"Uh...i was getting gas when he called."  
"What were you getting gas for?"  
Dean stared at him unbelievingly. He blinked once. "My private jet."  
"Well what did you do when you got there?"  
"I went straight to Becky's house. She told me about her brother's case. So i thought 'heck why not' and stayed to investigate. I didn't kill anyone. I didn't even know any of the victims, except Becky. I was just trying to help her out you know?" Dean explained.  
"Of course you were." He said soothingly. "So what happened next?"  
"We went to go check out her brother's apartment. I swear, we had no idea it was a private crime scene." (you knew) "We didn't find anything new anyway." He shrugged.  
"And then what?"  
"And then i apologized to Becky. There wasn't really anything i could do. So i left." (you did not)  
"And then you heard about How Becky had been attacked?" Thompson asked.  
"Right. But by then i was a state away." (down the street, probably in some crappy motel)  
"What did you think of the fact that the police found the suspect looking just like you?"  
"That he had good taste." Dean grinned.  
"And what about Milwaukee?" Thompson asked.  
"You mean the bank?" Dean asked. "I didn't rob it, if that's what you're asking. Do you think Victor would have found me in that lameass motel if i had successfully robbed a place like that?" (true)  
"What about the hostages?"  
"Those weren't mine. There was this guy named Ronald. Ronald Reznick. He came in the bank with a gun and i helped calm him down. I had to tell him what he wanted to hear so he wouldn't shoot those people." Dean exclaimed. "That psycho thought there was some kind of shapeshifting mandroid killing people there or something, i don't know." (so he was hunting a shapeshifter) "Then the FBI showed up and Ron got shot. Then i got the rest of them out of there."  
"After knocking out one of my men and stealing his clothes in order to make it out of the bank unnoticed!" Victor objected.  
Dean stared at him for a moment before turning to the judge. "Really? You're not going to yell at him? After all those times you yelled at me?"  
Judge Sanders glared at Dean. "Mr. Hendrickson, please don't talk out of turn." He said stiffly without taking his eyes off of Dean.  
"Thank you." Dean smiled. "And yeah." He said to Victor. "I snuck out of there. Cause if i had walked out the front door, you would have shot me, no questions asked. Hell, you already had guys in there with semi-autos, ready to shoot anything that moved!"  
Victor obtained a sour look.  
"What would you say happened with Anthony and Karen?" Thompson blatantly ignored Hendrickson.  
"Anthony was an old friend of my dad's." (a guy he found in the newspaper) "When i heard he died, i raced into town. His death was strange, you know? No guy caught on tape and all. So i went to comfort Karen." (probably as an insurance agent) "She was pretty broken up. So i calmed her down and gave her a hug. Then i went back to the motel." (something's missing there)  
"But then you were found at the crime scene?" Thompson prompted.  
"Yeah i went back to check up on Karen. When she didn't open the door, i got worried. She had given me a key, so i let myself in." (picked the lock) "That's when i found her upstairs. And then the police showed up."  
"And took you into custody?"  
"Yeah. I mean i get why they did it. Mystery man shows up in a house with a dead woman in it might raise suspicion. But i didn't do anything!"  
"So you made a run for it?"  
"Well, you all heard what i said earlier. Pete tried to 'deport' me to st. Louis. Then he stopped the truck in the middle of nowhere, pulled me out, still cuffed, and tried to shoot me in cold blood."  
"That's terrible."  
"Don't feel bad." Dean assured him. "I'm fine."  
"And then Oakland." 'He completely skipped the detention center.' Sam thought. "What were you doing there?"  
"At first i was just passing through. Then, while i was eating a burger at the park, i heard a woman scream. So i ran into this building to see what was up.That's when i saw Marie Jones; the first victim." (he was at a diner when he found and article about Marie Jones) "I knew it wasn't a suicide, cause well people don't normally scream in terror before they hang themselves, but the police didn't believe me. So i looked into it myself."  
"What did you find?"  
"Jack, cause i got arrested." He winked at Hendrickson. "Thanks Victor."  
"Dean Winchester, did you kill anyone?" Thompson boomed.  
"No."  
Sam smiled at his brother's abrupt answer.  
"No further questions, your honor." Thompson sighed, sitting down.  
"Mr. Winchester, are you ready for cross?"  
"Absolutely, your honor." Sam got up and took a deep breath. The courtroom was dead silent. "Dean." He nodded when he reached the podium.  
"Heya, Sammy." Dean grinned. Someone in the audience gave a sharp intake of breath. Dean rolled his eyes.  
"What do you think of Frisco?" Sam asked casually. "Kind of a funky town, wouldn't you say?"  
Dean's eyes widened, but only for a millisecond. Just enough time for Sam to see that he had registered the use of their old code word.  
"I can understand where you are coming from." Dean said, choosing his words cautiously. "You can do whatever you want here."  
"Except murder." But he knew Dean got it. He was under a lot of speculation, and was going to keep his reputation up.  
"I didn't m-"  
"Save it." Sam said cooly. "Dean, you said that in st. Louis, you were helping a girl named Rebecca, yes?"  
"Yeah, that's right."  
"Did you know her before?"  
"How would i have known her before?"  
Sam narrowed his eyes. "Yes or no?"  
"Well, that would be a no."  
"Do you know then why she let you help her? If she didn't even know who you were?"  
"She knew who i was." Dean protested. "My br- friend told her i was coming."  
Sam sighed knowing that slip-up had been for him. "You also said that you didn't know that her brother's house was a crime scene, is that so?"  
"Yeah."  
"Did you not see the police tape that they put over every crime scene? Or did you think it was just a part of the decor?"  
Dean said nothing.  
"Where were you when Becky was attacked?" Sam continued.  
"In my car."  
"Do you have an alibi?"  
"No i was alone." Dean said, staring Sam in the eye.  
"Of course you were." Sam nodded. "What about the Giles'? Where were you then?"  
"Two states over when Anthony died." Dean shot at him. "And driving to Karen's when she was killed."  
"Why?"  
"I was just checking up on her!"  
"I saw the security footage! You left Anthony Giles' office, a place which, by the way, you were not supposed to be, right before Karen's 911 call."  
"Yeah. And she was already dead when i reached her house."  
"Dean, might i remind you that lying could get you-"  
"What? Killed?" Dean spat. "You idiots are trying to get me on death row anyway."  
"That's quite enough!" Sanders barked at him.  
It took all Sam had not to look at his shoes.  
"And what about Diana? Where were you then?" Sam continued.  
"Locked up." Dean said solemnly. "Ask Pete. On second thought, don't ask Pete. He's more of a liar then i ever was."  
"Dean why were you in Milwaukee?"  
"Road trip."  
"Uh huh. And how did you happen to be at the exact bank that was robbed the night the supposed other guy robbed it?"  
"I guess god just hates me." Dean smiled.  
Well, that could be true.  
"You ran away from the FBI."  
"They were trying to kill me."  
"And why was that?"  
"Cause i was suspected of murder."  
"There was a girl found stabbed to death in one of the closets."  
"Yes."  
"Did you-"  
"Did i what? Kill her? No!" Dean objected. "Maybe she was shot by yours truly." He indicated to Hendrickson.  
"You son of a-"  
"Hendrickson! Silence!" Sanders barked.  
"It seems very unlikely that there would be so many coincidental circumstances that would just so happen to lead you to be there at that day it was robbed when a girl was murdered, doesn't it?" Sam asked.  
"Yeah, i guess it does." Dean shot back.  
"And you just so happened to be at Karen's house at the approximate time of her murder?"  
"I was."  
"And i suppose you got arrested into the Green River County Detention Center under false pretenses as well?"  
'Dammit' Dean thought. "Uh, yeah, actually."  
"Really? Because my source tell me you were caught robbing a history museum." Sam speculated. "After it was closed."  
Dean bit his tongue.  
"So was that last statement a lie?"  
Dean said nothing. Now that Sam had a plan, he didn't mind watching Dean squirm.  
"Dean, i need a yes or a no."  
"Yes dammit." Dean spat. "I was trying to get a, uh, an old hammer."  
"A hammer?"  
"Yes."  
"What did you need a hammer for?"  
"Well it didn't matter because i got arrested."  
"And you knocked out the warden on your escape?"  
"Yeah."  
"Dean do you think that was the right thing to do?"  
"Bite me, Sam."  
Someone gasped.  
"Dean when you reached Oakland, you introduced yourself as Agent Bonham of the FBI." Sam continued tiredly. "Are you aware that impersonating federal agents is illegal?"  
"Can i ask you something, Sammy?" Dean asked.  
"If the judge permits."  
Sanders nodded curtly.  
"What the hell am i actually on trial for?" He demanded. "Seriously. I want to know. Cause there seems to be too many damn things."  
"Well for starters, murder." Sam said.  
"Yeah i got that one." Dean muttered. "Can i even be on trial for more than one thing? Is that even legal?"  
"Yes." Sam said. "Now would you like me to read the charges again, or can we proceed?"  
"Please. Read the charges." Dean smirked. "I don't have anywhere better to be."  
Sam glared. "Dean, you are being charged with murder, breaking and entering, credit card fraud, impersonating government officials, and grave desecration. Any more questions?"  
"No that clears it up thanks."  
"Good. So are you aware that impers-"  
"Yeah i am." Dean interrupted.  
"So why did you do it?"  
"Because i figured that was the best way to get the story from Marie's coworkers."  
"And why do you think you need to get the story? Why not the police?"  
"Ha! Right. Like they'd be able to find anything!"  
"That's a pretty serious remark. What makes you say that?"  
"Come on. How many unsolved cases does America's police force have? 100? More? Someone's got to do it right, and it might as well be me."  
"So what was with the strange questions Victor mentioned?"  
"Maybe i was looking for a ghost." Dean smirked.  
Sam managed to roll his eyes. "And then you returned to your motel?"  
"Yes."  
"And looked at your computer?"  
"Yeah."  
"And then put kerosene and a gun in a bag?"  
"Uh huh."  
"Can i ask you how many unregistered firearms you posses?"  
"I don't know, can you?"  
"May i ask you how many unregistered firearms you posses?"  
"You certainly may."  
Sam waited a moment and then glared. "Dean. How many unregistered firearms do you posses?"  
Dean smiled. "Only a few."  
"How many is a few?"  
"More than one."  
"A lot more than one?"  
Dean thought for a moment. "Nah."  
Sam stared at him. "Right. So then you dug up a grave?"  
"Yeah."  
"You know that's illegal?"  
"I'm not an idiot."  
"Oh, obviously."  
Dean glared at him.  
"And i suppose you didn't kill the man that died that night?"  
"Sam, let me ask you something. Since i have arrived here, how many more people from that firm have died?"  
A sinking feeling plagued Sam's stomach. "Someone look it up." He ordered.  
"Three!" Someone called. "Hey that's-"  
"One each day." Dean finished. "How would i have been killing people in Oakland hm?" He asked. "And why? What would my motive have been? Just ask yourself that. That's all i'm saying."  
"So who's your accomplice?"  
"Accomplice? Please. No one is dumb enough to work with me."  
"Why? Because you pointlessly murder people?"  
"I don't-"  
"Then why would they be dumb if they worked with you?"  
Dean struggled to find an answer.  
"No further questions, your honor." Sam gave Dean an apologetic shrug. Dean brushed it off, nodding his head appraisingly. Sam turned and sat down.  
"Now the jury will take a fifteen minute break to decide upon Dean Winchester's sentence." Judge Sanders banged his gavel thrice.  
Sam immediately walked over to Dean. "Can i talk to you? In private, before this is all over?"  
"Are you trying to get punched again?" Thompson asked angrily. "What more can you say, the case is over."  
"It's cool." Dean said calmly. "I want to talk to him. I won't even hit him i promise. You can post guards outside the doors or whatever."  
Sam didn't say anything.  
"Plus i mean like you said, case is over. I can't mangle it any further." Dean continued.  
"Fine." Michael sighed. He unlocked Dean from the table, and Sam took Dean's arm and led him to his temporary office. Dean sat down and Sam threw him a paper clip.  
"They don't give me any keys." He apologized.  
Dean nodded, and started picking the lock on the handcuffs.  
"So." Sam said, sitting behind the desk.  
"So." Dean rubbed his newly-freed wrists. Based on the redness of them, those cuffs were way to tight. "I'm going to prison."  
"You don't sound surprised."  
"Ha. Right. I knew how this was going to end. I just wanted to draw it out. But hey i got to see my kid brother again, so i'm not complaining."  
Sam gave him a half-smile.  
"Hey." Dean said softly. "You know i'm not mad at you. I know you had to work against my case."  
"Thanks Dean." Sam smiled. "And you know i'm going to get you out of this."  
"You, a primo-top-of-the-line defender of the law, are going to break a convicted homicidal thief out of jail?"  
"Shut up."  
Dean cracked a grin. "Then i would love your help."  
"So i'll see you tonight then? About 2?"  
"Don't be late."  
"Now back to hating each other?"  
"I guess so. Can't have you as a suspected ally of mine." The two of them got up. Dean gave Sam a hug. "It really is good to see you again, Sammy."  
"You to Dean." Sam replied, hugging him back.  
Dean hastily put the handcuffs back on his wrists, this time a bit looser.  
"Hey Dean?" Sam asked before opening the door. "Were you really stealing an old hammer?"  
"No." Dean chuckled. "I needed to get arrested. The warden was a friend of dad's. He had a ghost in his prison and i helped him out. Then he helped me out."  
"Ah."  
"Let's go."  
Sam nodded curtly and started dragging him down the hallway. They made it back to the courtroom mere seconds before the judge stepped out with the jury.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, the court has made a decision." Sanders announced.  
"Ooh! What is it!?" Dean exclaimed excitedly.  
Glaring at Dean, Sanders continued. "We have found the defendant Dean Winchester guilty of all convicted crimes, and sentence him to death."  
"Yikes." Dean yawned.  
The Judge scowled and banged his gavel on the podium. "Case dismissed." The four policemen came and dragged Dean put of the room. People crowded Sam, congratulating him on another winning case. Sam took it all with a smile, trying not to think about the difficulty that lay ahead.


	3. The Escape

Dean pickled absentmindedly at the cuffs on his wrist. He sat on the cold, hard floor of the county jail. It wasn't the nicest jail he'd been to, he'd have to admit. Though, then again, it certainly wasn't the nicest.   
He had a lot to think about and a bit too much time to think about it. A lot had happened in the last three days. He'd been randomly plucked out of the middle of a case, thrown into court and reunited with his brother. And then he got convicted of a bunch of crimes, mainly multiple homicide, and was being sent to prison in the morning.   
Good times.   
Honestly though, even though he had tried his hardest to convict him, Dean was really glad to see Sam again. He'd missed him a lot more than he cared to admit.   
Though now he was being sent to some high-security prison. No, now he was SUPPOSED to be sent to some high security prison. There was no way that was happening. And if Sam didn't show up before 2:15, he was going to try to do this himself. He had work to do. Dean almost regretted letting Sam agree to help him. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he wished he hadn't. If Sam got caught, it would be his fault his life was ruined. What would happen? Certainly not more lawyering. Would he be taken away from Jess and his kids? Sam shouldn't be involved in this.   
The hours crept by. Dean had lots of time to think. Too much time. He thought about the job and about how things might have been if Sam had stuck with him all those years ago. No. Not that. Sam was happy now, that was all that mattered. But the thought kept resurfacing. What if the two of them were hunting together? What if Sam had seen dad again? What if-  
"Dean." Hissed Sam. Dean looked up suddenly, not realizing he'd been nodding off. He rushed over to the edge of the cell, to find a gloved Sam unlocking the doors using a ring of keys.   
"Where did you get those?" He whispered, staring at the keys.   
"Security guard." Sam said, opening the door. He rushed in and started working on the cuffs around his legs. His fingers shook as he tried to find the right key to get his brother freed.   
"Jim gave you the keys?"  
"Jim?"  
"The security guard. That's his name."  
"Yeah ok." Sam shook his head. "No. Jim did not give me the keys."  
"You stole them."  
Sam grinned proudly.   
Dean nodded approvingly. "I don't know Sammy. That's pretty illegal."  
"Yeah tell me about it. Got it!" He said triumphantly.   
Dean shook his legs, trying to get proper feeling in them. "No one saw you, right?" He asked Sam nervously.   
"No. I'm good." Sam smiled assuredly.   
"Your rusty." Dean said warily.   
"I swear, i wasn't seen." Sam promised. "Although in a minute-"  
An alarm suddenly sounded. The walls were bathed in a blaring, blinking red light.   
"That'll happen." Sam sighed. "We should run."  
"Won't argue with you there." Dean agreed.   
He and Sam bolted down the hallway. Dean struggled not to trip. Its harder to run when your hands are cuffed.   
"How are we planning on getting out of here?" Dean hissed, as the rush of feet behind them got louder.   
"Working on it." Sam responded, turning a corner down a new hallway.   
Suddenly, Dean's ears perked up. "Sam." He said. "Sammy, stop."  
"What?" Sam looked at him.   
"There's more coming from in front of us." He told Sam softly.   
Sam listened closely. Sure enough, a soft pounding of feet could be heard from the hallway they were going down. "Dammit." He groaned. "Any ideas?"  
Dean quickly assessed their surroundings. Empty hallway. Solid floors. Solid ceiling. Cell door to the left empty and slightly ajar. He grinned. "Watch and learn college boy."  
•••  
Jim was tired. He had had a long day, and now the sassy convicted murderer was trying to break out. At 2am. With some unknown accomplice. Who managed to take out the security cameras and get the keys from him. Not that he had been sleeping, of course. He would never fall asleep on the job.   
Never. Not once.   
The alarms had sounded (a noise that certainly had not woken him up) and now he, followed by a few other men, we chasing a murderer down the hall.   
Unfortunately, things did not go as planned.   
"Jim?"  
"Jerry?" He and the other guards skidded to a stop. They had run into Jerry's group of guards in the middle of the hallway.   
"Where the hell did he go?" Jerry asked furiously.   
"I...i..." Jerry stammered looking wildly around the prison.   
"Common." Jerry ordered. "Let's split up. We can't have gone too far. Sanders'll have our asses if we lose this guy."  
"Not to mention the entire state of st. Louis and California." Jim added. "Move out." He called to the rest of the guards.   
Everyone scattered around the prison. He couldn't have left the premises yet.   
Soon the hallway was empty. Men could still be heard calling to people from around the building. In the cell right next to where the guards had been standing, two prisoners who had been sleeping cautiously lifted their heads.   
Dean raised an eyebrow and winked.   
•••  
The red alarms were still blaring and flashing. Prisoners all over were waking up, irritated by the noise. Shouting started. The premises got steadily louder. The guards were trying to calm everyone down, but to no avail. It was plunging into chaos. By the time they got the alarms turned off, it didn't matter anymore. Everyone was awake and making noise.   
"Dean, all this noise is going to attract the police." Sam warned as the slid out of the cell. "We need to get out of here."  
"I think that last part is pretty obvious, Sammy." Dean agreed.   
"C'mon." Sam rolled his eyes. The two of them rushed down the hallways, turning corners, avoiding guards.   
"Do you actually have any idea where we are actually going?" Dean asked.  
"No. Shut up." Sam said.   
"I didn't think so." Dean nodded. "This way." Dean tugged on Sam's jacket, pulling him the opposite direction that they had been going.   
"Why-"  
"I've been here a couple of days." Dean told him. "I've managed to scope the place out a bit."  
"And why didn't you mention this earlier?" Sam asked irritably.  
"'Cause it's a bad idea."  
"Fantastic." He sighed. "When is that not the case? Let's do it."  
"Are you sure you want to do this Sam?" Dean asked. "Be helping me?"  
"Really Dean? Now?"  
"Sammy, if you get caught-"  
"What if you get caught?" Sam interrupted.   
"You have a family, Sam."   
"You are my family Dean."  
Dean was silent for a moment.   
"What do we do for this plan?" Sam demanded.   
Dean looked around, contemplating. Then he turned to Sam. "I want you to go hide in that closet." He pointed to a door off to the left.   
"What?! No!" Sam exclaimed.   
"Sammy, i mean it." Dean hissed. "If this is to work at all, you can NOT be caught. I'll be in there momentarily. Go." He repeated when Sam didn't move.   
Sam squared his jaw defiantly, but did as Dean asked him.   
"Don't come back, no matter what you hear." Dean ordered. "Got it?"  
Sam nodded ruefully. Then he disappeared.   
Dean felt bad about getting Sam all worked up, but if he was going to attract some unsuspicious guards, he needed it to be real. And it had worked. He had heard guards coming down the hallway, using there arms to help move them along, clearly not holding guns. Two of them. Dean grinned. He leaned nonchalantly against the wall as the two men ran around the corner.   
"Heya fellas." He smiled. There were two large guns trained on him.   
"Put your hands in the air and get on your knees." One demanded.   
Dean didn't move.   
"Now!" The guards walked closer to him. Dean prayed that Sam wouldn't walk out of that door. Slowly, he got onto his knees and put his hands on the back of his head. His hand was yanked down and a cuff clipped on. But before the next one could be fastened, Dean was on his feet, knocking the gun out of the hand of the guard in front of him. He elbowed the guy behind him in the face and kicked his feet out from under him. He fell to the floor, unconscious. A swift punch in the cheek sent his friend down with him. After dusting his hands off, he went to grab Sam.   
Sam looked at the passed out guards. He raised his eyebrows.   
"C'mon." Dean said, unzipping the coat of the slightly shorter guy.   
"Wh-what are you doing?" Sam stammered.   
"How do you think i got out of the FBI-infested bank in Milwaukee?" Sam raised an eyebrow, hesitating. "I told you it was a bad idea." Dean shrugged.   
Sam sighed and unzipped the taller guy's jacket.   
•••  
The two brothers slipped out into the open air, both letting out a sigh of relief.   
"C'mon." Dean said. "The reinforcements will be here soon."  
Sure enough they could both hear the sirens wailing around the corner. Ducking into some trees, Sam and Dean ran out of sight.   
The two of them sat down, breathing hard.   
"We did it." Sam grinned.   
"Yeah we did." Dean smiled back. "My little bro's all grown up." Dean wiped away a non-existent tear. Sam shoved him jokingly. "Just sayin' Sammy." Dean laughed. "That was pretty illegal."  
"Don't remind me." Sam groaned. "I'm going to have to walk into work tomorrow and be surprised when i find out you escaped."  
"Are you going to be okay?" Dean asked him seriously.   
"I'm a pretty good liar, Dean." Sam assured him. "What about you? Where are you going to go?"  
Dean sighed and shrugged. "Wherever the job takes me." He got to his feet. Sam did the same. "Be safe, Sammy." Dean pulled his brother into a tight hug.   
"You too, Dean." Sam said softly.   
He let go and laughed. "We both know that's not happening."   
Sam let out a smile.   
"Say hi to Jess for me."   
"I will."  
Dean pulled the Impala's keys out of his pocket. "I'll see you around Sam."  
"You too." Sam nodded. "Just...not in a courtroom, okay?"  
Dean laughed again. "Got it." Then he winked, swung the keys around his fingers and disappeared into the night.


	4. Epilogue

"Sam?"  
Sam groggily opened his eyes. Hess was poking his shoulder, looking worried.  
"What is it, babe?" Sam asked.  
"You're going to be late for work."  
He glanced at his clock. "Dammit!" Sam leapt out of bed and started throwing on his suit.  
"Where were you last night?" Jess asked casually as Sam rushed around the room.  
"What?"  
"Oh please. Let's not pretend i didn't noticed you'd left."  
Sam hesitated. "I needed some air." He said. "I kept thinking about Dean."  
"Sam, i'm sure it's going to be okay." Jess comforted.  
"I got him convicted." Sam told her. "He's being extradited to St. Louis where they're going to kill him." He sat down next to her.  
"Oh, sweetie," Jess wrapped her arms around Sam. "I'm so sorry. But," she looked him in the eye, "this is Dean we're talking about. I'm sure he'll find some way to weasel his way out of it."  
Sam smiled to himself. "Yeah. I certainly hope so. He says hi, by the way."  
"When did he say that?" Jess asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"I'm sure you'll see soon enough." Sam grinned.  
•••  
"What do you mean, escaped?!" Judge Sanders roared. "How could you let this happen?!"  
The trial was over, but the court was full of loud, angry people. Except this time, it was all employees, not spectators. Everyone was yelling, trying to make themselves heard. The judge was by far the loudest. He had a personal hatred for Dean, and it was really showing. A guilty-looking Jim was looking at his shoes as Sanders bombarded him with angry questions and exclamations.  
Then Sam walked in. Everyone immediately fell silent. Sam's eyes were wide as he looked at everyone staring back at him.  
"Is something wrong?" He asked tentatively.  
"Sam." Judge Sanders acknowledged him. "I'm glad you came."  
"I'm here everyday." Sam reminded him.  
"So you are."  
"What happened?" Sam repeated. "Did something go wrong?"  
"I'm not really sure how to tell you this," Jim started slowly. "But Dean... Dean got out."  
"Got out, what do you mean, got out?" Sam asked sternly.  
"Like, um, left."  
"Left?"  
Jim sighed. "He escaped."  
"Escaped?" Sam's eyes widened. "How the hell-"  
"It wasn't my fault." Jim said quickly. "I was awake the whole time." Sam hid a snort with a hasty cough. "Also, as i was trying to tell judge Sanders, he had an accomplice."  
"An accomplice." Sam repeated. "That would make sense. The person who was killing those people for him after he got arrested. They must have shown up to help break him out."  
"You seem to be taking this quite in stride, Sam." Sanders observed.  
"I'm just not that surprised." Sam sighed. "I knew we should have gotten him extradited immediately. I was doing some research the other night, and this guy has been arrested at least 4 times, breaking out every time. He must have some sort of angel on his shoulder."  
"A fallen angel, maybe." Sanders sighed. "You're probably right. Dammit, st. Louis is going to be furious. I don't know what to do."  
"Maybe," Sam said cautiously. "We should just let this one go. I'm positive he'll turn up again somewhere. His kind always do. We can leave it to whoever finds him. By now he's probably at least two states away. We've done all we can."  
Sam's heart was almost beating out of his chest waiting for a response.  
"Right again Sam." Sanders relented. "Its out of our jurisdiction. It's out of my hands. Well, back to work, i suppose." He said to everyone. "Saturday is not slacker day. Let's get moving."  
Everyone began filing out of the court room. Amidst the noise, Sam let out and unnoticed sigh of relief. It was over.  
•••  
brrRRRING. brrRRRING.  
Sam's office's phone rang loudly.  
"San Francisco Law Firm, this is Sam Winchester speaking."  
"Wow fancy." Came Dean's voice.  
"Dean?" Sam's voice lowered dramatically. "Where are you?"  
"Portland." He told him. "Some kind of wolf thing."  
"That was quick."  
"Trying to keep busy. Look, how did it go. You still in the clear?"  
"Yeah, i'm good. I mean, as far as i know."  
"Sammy, i wanted to apologize." Dean said. "I screwed up and got careless. This whole thing could have been avoided if i had just-"  
"Dean, stop." Sam interrupted. "This was Victor's fault. And i'm not upset it happened." He took at deep breath. "Despite the circumstances, it was good to see you."  
"Right back at ya." Dean said. "Still-"  
"Stop it."  
"Fine."  
There was a brief pause.  
"Dean?"  
"Yeah, Sammy?"  
"Let's try to keep in touch a bit more, okay? Ten years is a long time."  
"Agreed. I'll call you. Often as i can."  
Another pause.  
"Well, i'd...better go." Dean said. "There's a dead girl ripped up in the woods."  
"Right okay." Sam nodded. "Dean?"  
"Yeah Sam?"  
"If things had been different... If i had stayed with you that night-"  
"Sam no." Dean stopped him. "Jess. Your kids. Your job. Your life is good. You're happy."  
"Are you?"  
"Who cares about that? It's not about me."  
"Dean-"  
"I'll call you later, Sam. I got to run." The phone hung up.  
"Dammit." Sam muttered as he put the phone back.  
At least he had gotten away. At least this whole trial thing was over. Yet somehow...  
It didn't make any sense. He hadn't seen Dean for ten years, yet it didn't seem like he'd changed at all. He saw him again for three days and it was almost like old times again. They still worked perfectly together. Sam sat back in his chair, the pile of paper work he had to file sitting to the side, untouched.  
•••  
"Of course you can have time off, Sam." Sanders said. "You've had quite the week."  
"Thank you so much, your honor."  
"Can i ask where you're going?"  
"Just a short camping trip." Sam told him. "I hear Portland is nice this time of year."


End file.
